


Everything on the Ice

by AfroLatinxFrisk



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teen Pregnancy, im mad there is a tag for that, in which katsuki yuuri is the best step dad in the world, preteen yurio, single dad viktor, viktor "extra af" nikiforov, viktor is yurio's dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10031522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfroLatinxFrisk/pseuds/AfroLatinxFrisk
Summary: After the GPF and the worst season of his competitive skating career, Katsuki Yuuri did not expect his long time idol to come to his hometown and offer to coach him. He also did not expect said idol to bring his preteen son with him.(Or, where Single Dad! Viktor drags his smol angry son Yuri(o) with him to coach Yuuri.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the fist time I'm actually publishing my fanfiction in years. Why not have the first one in ages belong to the fandom that has consumed my life on the day of our collective son's birth? This was written mostly for fun and is competently un-beta'd. Feel free to point out any typos/grammatical mistakes.

**Chapter One: Yuri**

Yakov Feltsman was certain that he was a good person with the patience of a saint. It was how he was able to work closely with Viktor Nikiforov, one of the most infuriating people Yakov had ever known, without strangling him. That wasn’t to say that Viktor was a bad person- quite the opposite, actually. Rather, Viktor was the type to do his own thing as dramatically as human possible, making Yakov’s job of whipping the fifteen-year-old into the top figure skater that Yakov knew he had the potential to be harder than necessary. Of course, when said fifteen-year-old decided to call him at 3 in the morning, Yakov can’t help but feel annoyed at the impromptu wake-up (and reminder that his wife had chosen to sleep in the guest room rather than their shared room).

“Vitya, It’s 3 in the morning. Why are you calling me this early?”

“Yakov.”

Something was wrong. Yakov sat up straight in his bed. He could tell from the tone of Viktor’s voice, which was lacking in its normal nonchalant tone that Yakov was used to hearing make up some excuse as to why he was or wasn’t going to do something. Instead, he felt fear radiating from Viktor from over the phone.

“Vitya, What’s wrong?”

“Yakov, I need help. I made a mistake.”

\--

Yuri was born on the ice. His first clear memory was the sound of his father’s skates on the ice. At age ten, Yuri was certain that he has spent most of his life in a skating rink, whether it be the rink in St. Petersburg that he was at more than his own home or one of the numerous rinks his dad competed in. Skating was in his blood. Which was why Yuri would rather be rink side, watching his dad win what would probably be his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medal. Instead, he was sitting in his living room, watching the GPF on their (admittedly rather nice) television, wrapped up in several blankets. Normally, Yuri would join Viktor at his various international competitions. However, right before they were set to leave for Sochi, Yuri came down with a fever, meaning that he couldn’t go. After calming a panicking Viktor down (“No, Vitya, Yurochka is not going to die, he has a _cold_ ”), Yuri’s grandfather was called in from Moscow to babysit so his dad could compete (and win). Yuri was not happy about the situation.

(Not that Yuri didn’t love his grandpa. He did. It’s just he would rather be _in_ Sochi, not at home and watching on TV.)

“ _Deda_ , I think Dad’s going to go on soon!” Yuri’s grandpa was in the kitchen making Yuri some soup for his cold. Yuri would have preferred some pirozhki, but it apparently wasn’t good for curing colds.

“Give me a minute, Yurochka,” his grandpa says.

“Okay, but he’s next. He’s right after this Japanese guy… Yuuri Katsuki?” Yuri couldn’t help but hmpf a bit at seeing the other Yuuri. _He better be good. I refuse to share a name with a failure._ Although he might only be ten, years of being around figure skaters meant that Yuri had a better understanding of figure skating and figure skating scoring than most adults. If this other Yuuri messed up, Yuri would _know._ And judge, _hard_. _“Representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki!”_

The music begun, and the other Yuuri glided across the ice.

Yuri couldn’t deny it. This other Yuuri was _good_ , if a little inconstant. There were a couple of mistakes on the landing of his jumps, but his spins were clean and his step sequences beautiful. Yuri was impressed. _I want to skate like that someday._

(Of course, that would mean Viktor actually letting him _train to compete_ instead of the mostly casual skating Yuri did now, but that was another story).

_“For Japan, Yuuri Katsuki.”_ Yuuri Katuski receives his score. Not the best- Yuri knew his dad would definitely blow that score out of the water- but not too bad. Yuri thought he deserved higher, though. Not that he was supporting the other Yuuri, or anything. Yuri just though he deserved a higher score, is all. The other Yuuri leaves the kiss-and-cry, and Viktor Nikiforov takes the ice.

“ _Deda_! Dad’s going on now!”

“Alright, alright. The soup’s done, I’m coming now.”

Yuri sit up in his seat. His grandpa gives him a bowl of homemade soup and sits next to him.

_“Representing Russia, Viktor Nikiforov!”_ The music starts.

Yuri is always impressed when his dad is on the ice. Viktor Nikiforov moves with such grace and confidence that many were often brought to tears by the end of the performance. This time is no exception. Viktor glides across the ice, demanding all eyes on him. A spin there. A quad salchow there. A step sequence, followed by his signature quad flip.

_“For Russia, Viktor Nikiforov!”_

By the end of the performance, half of the arena was standing and cheering. Yuri would be doing the same if he wasn’t confined to the couch.

“ _Deda,_ he’s going to win again!” His grandfather chuckles slightly.

“It’s still too early to know, Yurochka. Your dad still has to skate tomorrow.” Yuri scoffs. Like anyone there was good enough to beat his dad. Viktor gets his score, and, sure enough, he’s in first place. Like Yuri expected any differently. He calls his dad as soon as he can.

“Yura! So how did you think I did?”

“You did great dad! You always do.” Viktor laughs on the other side of the call.

“Thank you, Yura, that means so much.” Yuri finds himself smiling slightly.

“You’re going to do so great tomorrow, Dad.”

\--

The Grand Prix Final continues the next day.

The other Yuuri completely bombs his free skate. He comes in dead last. Yuri tries and fails to hide his disappointment.

His dad wins gold, of course, followed by Christophe Giacometti with silver, one of his dad’s close friends, and some Canadian skater with bronze, Juice Jam King, or something like that. Yuri calls his dad to congratulate him.

Three days later, Viktor is back in St. Petersburg.

\--

The moment Viktor returns from Sochi, Yuri knows something was wrong. His dad spends an unnecessary amount of time sighing and looking at pictures on his phone. It’s disturbing.

“It’s like his head’s constantly anywhere but on the ice, where it should be,” Yuri tells Mila Babicheva, one of Yakov’s younger protégés, three weeks after the GPF. The Russian Nationals had come and gone, and so had his dad’s birthday and New Year’s. Mila is thirteen, older than Yuri, but still in the junior division. Yuri wasn’t a professional skater (not his decision), but he was always at the rink after school (and before school some days), meaning he spent a good amount of time in Mila’s presence.

“To be fair,” Mila says, “Your dad is kind of an airhead.”

Part of Yuri wants to defend him. A larger part knows that Mila is absolutely right.

“So? It’s still the middle of the season. Dad is normally pretty focused during the skating season.”

And he still was, most of the time. But sometimes, Viktor would sigh and daydream in the middle of practice. A few days ago, Viktor had asked Yuri how he felt about moving. Yuri had just raised an eyebrow and said he wasn’t upset by the idea. He wouldn’t mind going to a new school, or even better, leave school all together and get a tutor.

(The thing about having an openly gay dad was that Yuri often had to deal with assholes at schools who thought he was an easy target for bullying. Of course, Yuri would point out that their parents weren’t gold medal winning Olympians, and tell them to come back when they had Olympic medals. That normally shut them up.)

“Maybe he’s planning something big for Europeans?” Mila said. “The daydreaming could just be Viktor thinking really hard?” Yuri snorted. He doubted that. The European Championships were in a few weeks, and Yuri was convinced that if his dad didn’t get his head out the clouds, he would be lucky if he landed on the podium.

(Yuri didn’t mean this literally. Of course his dad would be on the podium. It was his dad.)

\--

“So, I hear Japan is nice this time of year.”

Yuri looked up from his homework.

“Okay?”

Europeans came and went. Viktor got gold, naturally. It was the end of February, meaning that Yuri’s birthday was coming soon. It also meant that Viktor had a pretty decent gap between Europeans in mid-January to Worlds at the end of March. A gap filled less by him training and more by him looking up random things, filling out paper work and asking vague or strange questions like this.

“I mean, I hear Japan is nice all times of the year. Especially small towns by the ocean.”

Viktor had a heart-shaped smile on his face. Yuri raised an eyebrow.

“I guess?”

“You know, Yura, Worlds this year is in Japan. Tokyo. Maybe you’ll like it so much you’ll want to stay.”

“Okay.”

“Yes, Japan. The land of the rising sun. That Japan.”

Yuri grabbed his books and went into his room.

“Wait. Yura! Yuuuuuuuraaaaaaa! Don’t ignore your daaaaaaaaaaaaad. I looooooooveeeeeee yoooooooouuuuuuu! Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Yuri slammed the door behind him.

“And don’t slam the door!” his dad calls behind him. Yuri ignores it.

(“He doesn’t love me anymore, Makkachin. Is this what they call teen angst? Wait, He’s only ten. No, Makka, don’t leave me too!”)

\--

The next day is Yuri’s birthday. He decides pretty quickly that being eleven isn’t any different than being ten. His dad bought him a nice breakfast (Viktor told Yuri he considered making it himself. He then changed his mind when he realized that he wanted Yuri to live past eleven.). Later Yuri had a small get together with Viktor, Mila, Yakov, and his grandpa, who had come in from Moscow. Viktor’s other rinkmate, Georgi, had given him a birthday present and ran off to be with his girlfriend Anya.

“Happy Birthday, Yurochka,” his grandpa says, handing Yuri his present.

“Thanks, _Deda_.” Yuri opens the present. Inside is a slightly oversized hoodie with a tiger pattern, and small stuffed cat. A giant smile forms on Yuri’s face before he throws himself at his grandpa for a hug.

“Thank you, _Deda_! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

(To the side, Viktor had a bit of a forced smile. Yuri had asked for a similar hoodie a few months ago. Viktor said no. How Viktor Nikiforov managed to raise such a fashion challenged son, he would never know.)

“Ah, Yurochka, my back!”

“Sorry!”

“Thank you for the great present, Nikolai,” Viktor says. “I’m sure Yura will love it (“I do”), but let’s see some of the other presents.”

Mila got him a new book bag with tiger stripes (Viktor died a little inside) and a framed picture of herself. (“Why.” “You are my brother. Acknowledge that I am your sister, Yuri. Acknowledge it.”) Yakov’s present was in a large box, and was gently placed in front of him.

“I think this is something you will really like, Yurochka,” Yakov says. Yuri opens the box, and his eyes go wide.

Inside are a brand new pair of skates and some athletic wear. They were nice skates, too. Competitive level skates, even. Yuri had spent a significant portion of his life on the ice, but it had never been on his own skates. He always borrowed someone else’s, and, while that had worked and allowed him to skate, Yuri knew that it wasn’t as good as skating with his own pair that had conformed to his feet.

“Wow,” Mila says, “Those are some nice skates.”

And they were. Yuri wanted to run to the rink to try them out.

“Yakov.” Viktor’s voice is uncharacteristically icy. His mouth is pressed into a smile, and his facial expression is unreadable. It occurs to Yuri in that moment that he might actually be looking at his dad when he is truly upset. In Yuri’s eleven years of life, he can’t think of a time when he has ever seen his dad truly upset. Ticked off or annoyed, sure, but straight up mad?

“Yakov, I was unaware that you would go through all of the trouble of getting my Yura a pair of skates,” Viktor’s icy voice says, “They must have been expensive. You really shouldn’t have.”

“It’s only fair that he has a pair, Vitya. Yurochka is on the ice so much that he might as well be training to compete.”

And oh, Yuri would _love_ to be training to compete. But his dad was strangely insistent on him not. Yuri didn’t understand why.

“Really?”

“Really.”

The tension in the room was suddenly so thick, Yuri could feel it. Mila clears her throat.

“Weeeeeellll, I think it’s time for me to go. Bye, Yuri. Happy birthday again.”

Mila waves goodbye and practically runs out the door.

“I think these are a lovely gift, and Yurochka seems to like them.” Yuri gave a silent prayer of thanks for his grandfather. Viktor looks and Yakov, then to Yuri, and then to the skates.

“I suppose you are right. Thank you for the present, Yakov. I’ll make sure Yura gets to use them. Say thank you, Yura.”

“Thank you, Yakov.”

Yakov hmphs to himself and gives a nod of acknowledgement. Viktor has an aura of iciness around him for the rest of the day.

(Later that night, Makkachin crawls into bed with Yuri. Apparently his dad’s sudden icy demeanor had driven away what was essentially his second child. “Yeah, boy, I don’t get him right now either.”)

\--

As Worlds comes closer, Yuri notices a change in his dad’s demeanor. The sighing and daydreaming stops, and is replaced by an almost harsh reality. Yuri isn’t sure how to feel about it. Of course, his dad’s skating is still beautiful, but something is missing.

Yuri spends time after school breaking in his new skates. Despite not officially being one of Yakov’s students, more than once he gives Yuri skating pointers. Yuri’s skating gets better, and he can’t help but be upset that he isn’t training to compete (even though he wouldn’t be able to compete internationally for another year).

Worlds comes fast, and before Yuri knows it, he is on the plan to Tokyo. There are screaming fans when they arrive at the venue, both female fans who couldn’t care less about Viktor’s sexuality, and male fans that knew all too well his sexuality. He winks at them once, and half of them melt. Yuri can’t help but role his eyes at them. He doesn’t get the appeal. Probably because Viktor was his dad. Anyone who thought Viktor was this mysterious and aloof person had clearly never spent more than five minutes with the man.

Worlds come, Worlds goes. Yuri watches his dad add another gold medal to his ever-growing collection. It feels oddly empty. Objectively, Yuri knows there is nothing he can do about it. He was eleven, for crying out loud. But he couldn’t help but wish that he could do _something_ to make his dad feel better.

But he can’t, and Yuri isn’t sure how to feel about it.

\--

Yuri never forgot about the other Yuuri from the GPF. In fact, he spent the greater part of the month or so after the GPF following the other Yuuri’s season and learning everything he could about him. He knew where the other Yuuri was from (Hasetsu, Saga Prefecture, Japan), when he started skating (age 10), and a whole bunch of other little factoids to the point of embarrassment. To say that Yuri was disappointed in the other Yuuri’s performances in the Japanese Nationals was an understatement. Yuri had wanted to declare the next day to be an international day of mourning. After his disastrous performance, the other Yuuri had gone under the radar for the last several months, save for the occasional appearance on Phichit Chulanont’s Instagram (not that Yuri checked or anything).

So, imagine Yuri’s surprise when Mila runs up to him at the rink after school one day, phone in hand, and shoves it in front of his face.

“Look at this.”

Part of Yuri wanted to yell at the newly-minted fourteen-year-old (Mila’s birthday was last week) to get her phone out of his face. But before he could say anything the video on the screen starts to play.

It’s the other Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki, skating to his dad’s full program routine from the season that just ended. And he’s skating it well. Of course, he lacks some of the technical elements present when his dad skates and he’s gained some weight, but the other Yuuri’s presentation… Yuri could hear the music playing despite there being no actual music playing in the video. It was just the movement of the body and the skates hitting the ice.

“He’s good, right?” Mila says. Yuri nods. “I don’t even think your dad had that much emotion skating this during Worlds.”

Part of Yuri wants to defend him. A larger part knows that Mila is absolutely right.

When Yuri gets home that night, he walks into chaos. There are bags scewed everywhere. Yuri sees some of his dad’s clothes in on. He sees some of Makkachin’s toys in another. Said dog has found a pile of what looks like some of Yuri’s old sweaters to lie down in. His dad had left the rink early, any while it was unusual, Yuri didn’t think anything of it.

Yuri now wishes he did.

“Yura!” Viktor says, poking his head out of Yuri’s (Why was he there?) bedroom door. “Help me pack your bags.” Yuri raises an eyebrow.

“…Why?”

Viktor has a giant heart-shaped smile plastered onto his face. Yuri was oddly terrified.

“Yura, pack your bags, we’re moving to Japan.”

There is a beat of silence.

“What.”

**Author's Note:**

> Deda is another way to say dedushka, or grandpa in Russian. I decided to have Yurio say this instead because it sounded cuter.  
> I found this chapter a bit hard to write since it is an introductory chapter and told from the perspective of a child. For the most part, we will be seeing things in Yuuri or Viktor's POV.  
> I've played around with some of the character's ages, not just Yurio's (such as Mila),mostly so Yurio actually has some kids around him somewhat near his age.  
> As a bit of a disclaimer: I am a straight women writing these defiantly not straight characters. If I mess-up my portrayal of any of these character's sexual orientations, feel free to correct me. I am always here to learn.  
> Also Viktor Nikiforov would be the most extra parent and you cannot convince me otherwise.  
> Please leave a comment or kudos. It would make me happy and more motivated to write more.  
> (its 3:26am lmao why am i not asleep i have class)


End file.
